


til human voices wake us/and we drown

by seventhstar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: AU of Sargasso Duel, M/M, durbe's seething resentment + his Feelings, inspired by a twitter convo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>durbe. sargasso. the boy reminds him of nasch. nasch, who left him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	til human voices wake us/and we drown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rangerhitomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/gifts).



“You remind of me of someone.”

“Shut up,” Ryoga said. It was meant to be a show of strength, but Durbe could see him clearly even at this distance: his teeth were tinged pink with blood, his face was paler than it should have been.

Silently Durbe agreed with him.

He didn’t know why he was thinking of Nasch now, when he needed his concentration. The plan was simple, even if it was cruel, even if the voice in the back of Durbe’s mind that he so often ignored told him it was wrong. He and Mizael would handle Kaito and Ryoga, Yuuma’s protectors, and Vector would kill Astral — and Yuuma — with whatever trap he’d laid in his deck while he was on Earth. Durbe didn’t know all the details. He didn’t really want to know them.

Nasch would have known them, but then, Nasch would never have done anything Vector suggested. Even if it was smart. Even if it was the only way. He was spiteful that way. He’d hated Vector.

Durbe didn’t have the luxury of hating Vector in his stead. Vector was useful. In fact, Vector was doing something on his side of Sargasso right now that was making Yuuma scream and Kaito distracted and Ryoga sweat. Very effective, Durbe thought. They were winning. This was good.

_Damn you, Nasch, for leaving me with all this._ He took his turn. He was sure his monster was judging him. Ryoga was swaying; his eyes were too blue. Durbe liked the set of his mouth. _You promised me you would keep this world safe!_

“Tachyon Spiral!”

“Kaito-sama!”

Mizael was fulfilling his part admirably. Durbe wished he had Mizael’s absolute conviction; perhaps then he would be able to focus better. Instead he had an itch, an unsettling feeling something in his chest. There was something not quite right. He was missing something, and he was responsible for Barian World until (if) Nasch and Merag came back. He wasn’t allowed to miss things. _That_ was why he was dueling this human, watching him fall apart from the chaotic strength of Durbe’s power, while Vector took the lead. While Alit and Gilag lay encased in crystal. While Mizael enjoyed himself even as he was in pain.

“I end my turn,” he said.

Ryoga played. He was an aggressive duelist, and he obviously disliked playing defense; his whole mouth turned down every time a turn passed without him attacking. His Number, like him, had bloody teeth; they matched. There was the girl at his side, egging him on. Her fists were clenched at her sides. _She_ knew what was coming, even if Ryoga proceeded blindly forward. He talked like he was winning, even though Durbe was draining him of life points every turn.

Maybe it was the girl that was making him confused. The two of them were a matched set; that was what made him think of Nasch so strongly. The way they communicated by saying what they didn’t mean.

_It’s only that I miss him. Nothing else._

Durbe barely looked at the cards in his hand before he played them. Ryoga sneered at him while he responded in kind, and Nasch had never had a mouth, never had that childish look on his face. But. _But._ The more Durbe looked at him the more he thought of Nasch. He was even using the same archetype. It was something in Ryoga’s stance, defiant even though he was trembling.

Nasch could not have bled, but if he did would it drip down his face, just as the blood flowed over Ryoga’s forehead?

_You said you trusted me, Nasch, but you left me with nothing._

Maybe it was the three of them. They supported Yuuma — as best they could while Astral made him writhe in agony — and he supported them, too. He said the right things and he offered them hope.

_[My name is Nasch._ A hand, held out to him. _This is your new home. Barian World.]_

Durbe shook his head to clear it. This boy was no Nasch — no one could be Nasch — and if Nasch were here, he would have told Durbe to get it together and fight for their world.

Perhaps Nasch had seen Durbe’s weakness before Durbe had been forced to face it himself. Maybe that was why he and Merag had gone and left him alone.

“Oi.” Ryoga was talking. His speech was a little slurred, now. Even if he won he might lose his life — Durbe would _not_ consider the possibility of losing. “It’s your turn, Barian.”

He said it like an insult. What did he know?

“So it is.” Durbe drew. “The last turn.”

“We’ll…see.”

“Ryoga,” Kaito said.  He had turned to watch them; he was alarmed. But Mizael wouldn’t let him interfere.

Mizael, at least, believed in Durbe. Durbe owed it to him and to Alit and to Gilag to continue.

“You fought well.” Durbe flipped his spell. Ryoga’s eyes widened as his Life Points dropped. Somewhere in the background Vector was laughing.

But everything seemed to stop as Ryoga choked — stumbled — collapsed in a purple heap on the ground. The girl screamed; probably Kaito and Yuuma did, too. Durbe turned away. He still didn’t have the stomach for it; now he remembered how young this human really was.

He didn’t wait to see if the others were done. He vanished.

Barian World looked the same when he arrived, but Durbe flew past Gilag and Alit, up through the palace to the thousand stairs. The throne was at the top; a passing cloud had thrown it into shadow. Perhaps when he arrived, Nasch would be —

There was no one and nothing, but for Nasch’s crest lying across the seat of the throne. He froze. That was not where Durbe had left it. He kept it with him, always. No one was supposed to know that he had it; he’d found it after Nasch vanished and decided that it was his, solely because he had loved Nasch the most. His selfishness.

He reached out and cupped it in his hands, looking for the heat of Nasch’s body lingering within it…

…there was pink powder slipping through Durbe’s fingers, finer than sand, glinting beautifully in the red sun’s eerie light. He stared at it, at the gold chin that had fallen and ended up looped around his wrist. The crest was dust spread across the red cushion, split onto the stone, cold and lifeless. The chain was tarnishing before his eyes.

It was as if his last token of Nasch had burned to ash before his eyes.

“Nasch!”

It was unfair. He had done whatever he needed to do! He had loved Nasch, followed him, trusted him…

“Come back, damn you,” he whispered. No one answered him.


End file.
